


El Señor del Río

by Thymesis



Category: The Shape of Water (2017)
Genre: Equadorian Amazon Setting, Exchange Assignment, Implied/referenced illness, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements, Worldbuilding Exchange 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: Of course, he was no superstitious primitive. He was Joseph Maguire, a Texas oilman, Beaumont born and bred, and he knew there had to be a rational, scientific explanation.





	El Señor del Río

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



Joseph Maguire was a Texas oilman, Beaumont born and bred.

After leaving high school at the age of sixteen, he’d taken a grunt job with The Texas Company. Then he’d married a pretty redhead named Ruth who had given him Joseph Jr. and Linda. To support his new family, he’d worked himself like a dog, ascending the ranks of the industry all the way to his current senior executive position.

Now in the prime of his life, he ought to be home with his wife and kids or at work managing accounts from a comfy office chair; he should be enjoying the sweet, soft fruits of his labor.

So why in the Lord’s Holy Name was Joseph Maguire prospecting for oil in the heart of the darkest Ecuadorian Amazon?

He said he owed it to the company that taken such good care of him.

He said he wanted to bring America’s brand of capitalism and democracy to uncivilized jungle peoples. With the benevolent assistance of Texas Company, only recently renamed Texaco, Inc., and plenty of good, honest work, he said, they could become self-made men just like himself.

But when he said those things, he was lying through his straight, white teeth.

The truth?

Joseph Maguire was a homosexual; he didn’t want Red Ruth or Mighty Joe or Lovable Linda to know; and the further he was from them, the less likely they were to find out about…any of it.

About Gilly, for example.

***

The sunsets over the river were beautiful. The sky blazed with crimson, indigo, and gold, and even the patches of oil floating on top of the water were swirls of iridescent rainbows.

Gilly was laying a neat line of white rainforest blossoms along the sandy shores of riverbank.

“For the river god,” Gilly said by way of explanation when he saw Joseph approaching.

“Oh? I thought you people were all Catholic these days.” Joseph didn’t have a high opinion of the Pope, but if you accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior he wasn’t going to protest too hard. Especially not given his own multitude of sins.

“There is a god in the river. I ask for his blessing,” Gilly said obstinately.

Joseph shrugged and let the matter drop. Gilly was the company’s local translator. Born Guillermo Aguado de la Fuente, his father was Spanish-Equadorian, but his mother was native Waorani, and from _her_ he’d inherited his straight, crow-black hair and his unblemished coffee-brown skin. He was so damn gorgeous that if it so happened he’d also inherited a handful of his mother’s primitive superstitions, well, Joseph could be easily persuaded not to care.

“C’mon, it’s getting late. We should get on back to the barracks before the bugs are out and biting full force.”

“I am not well, José.”

“I have something that’ll fix you right up,” Joseph said, canting his hips toward Gilly with a playfully suggestive leer.

“No.” Gilly coughed, dry and hacking. The faint stench of oil permeating the air must have gotten stuck in his throat. “I am not well.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing—”

Gilly planted his feet into the ground and refused to budge. His expression was serious. Joseph sighed and placed a hand on Gilly’s forehead. Hmm. He _did_ feel slightly feverish and clammy. This in spite of the humid, tropical air.

“All right. Let’s get you inside. If you don’t feel well, being out here isn’t going to help any. It’s past suppertime. We should get some food in your belly.” If he wasn’t going to get into Gilly tonight, at least the food would!

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh? And when have you eaten last?”

“I…don’t remember,” Gilly mumbled. He refused to look Joseph in the eye.

“All the more reason. C’mon. Let’s. _Go_.”

This time, Gilly went without protest.

***

In the end, he only managed three bites or so, but before Joseph could question or cajole, Gilly’s hands were at Joseph’s waist, unbuckling his belt as he rained flirtatious kisses on Joseph’s lips.

Sex with Gilly was the best Joseph had ever had. Gilly was adventurous and unafraid, as unashamed of his body and its needs as his primitive ancestors must have been. Or so Joseph liked to imagine whenever Gilly’s legs were lifted, spread wide and open, whining in anticipation of their imminent union.

When they cuddled afterwards, however, Gilly cried out in pain when Joseph nuzzled behind his ear.

Gilly’s lymph nodes were swollen.

***

Gilly went to lay flowers down by the river at every sunset. He sometimes tried to hide where he was going and what he was doing from Joseph and the rest of the company men, but Joseph always knew.

He was also having trouble keeping his food down and had begun to lose weight. Naturally, he hadn’t been able to hide that from Joseph either.

They rarely engaged in sexual intercourse anymore, but Gilly still slept every night in Joseph’s arms. He was so feverish and weak. Joseph was terrified that if he let go, he would lose him forever.

***

Then, one night, Joseph was jolted awake. The mattress beside him was cold and empty.

“Gilly?” he tried.

No response.

He checked the common room. No Gilly. A few of the company’s men were there though, smoking and playing cards.

“Where’s Gilly?” Joseph asked without preamble.

One of the men shrugged. “Who, your girlfriend? She came by a couple of hours ago, muttering some Spanish bullshit about _el señor del río_ —”

Joseph cursed as he stormed out into the rainforest with only the thin, wan beam of a flashlight to illuminate his path. It wasn’t safe to leave the company barracks at night. This wasn’t Beaumont: There were jaguars and bears and possibly worse on the prowl in these parts, and the dark was so deep that you wouldn’t know they were lurking until it was already too late.

At least he knew where he was going: the riverbank.

In the end, he heard the Gilly’s moans long before he saw…it.

No.

_Him._

The glowing fish-man twined like a lover around Gilly.

***

Well, if that didn’t take the cake and the last scoop of ice cream. It was a miracle. A goddamned, fucking miracle.

In the days which followed, Gilly’s strength and health returned. As did his appetite—for food as well as for Joseph. He had, it seemed, been fully cured by whatever it was that fish-man had done to him.

Needless to say, Joseph was grateful, especially whenever he and Gilly frolicked between the bedsheets. In fact, the sex was, quite possibly, better than it had ever been, and it had been pretty damn good before. Whether _that_ had to do with the fish-man or the simple brush with mortality, Joseph wasn’t sure—and he wasn’t sure he cared.

Of course, he was no superstitious savage. He was Joseph Maguire, a Texas oilman, Beaumont born and bred, and he knew there had to be a rational, scientific explanation.

The next time Joseph sent his monthly report back up to Texaco HQ, he decided he would mention what had happened. That fish-man couldn’t possibly be a god, but it definitely had the power to heal illness.

To save precious lives.

 _Someone_ , he told himself, would be interested in that story.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Guillermo del Toro has said [the following](https://io9.gizmodo.com/if-you-wanted-to-know-where-the-shape-of-waters-fishman-1821051561) about the origin of The Asset: 
> 
> “It is a river God. It’s not an animal. It’s a river God in the Amazon. There was never another one. […] He was in the river. The natives gave flowers. An American company came to drill oil. They killed the natives, saw the creature and said ‘Let’s cage it and take it out.’ That’s the story. And he’s been alone all of his life.”
> 
> Posted to the exchange on February 20, 2018.


End file.
